


Heart-Shaped Box

by ArsonEmbre



Series: Son of a Preacher Man [14]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Abusive Parents, Angst, Bad Flirting, Bad Parenting, Crisis of Faith, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Neck Kissing, Religious Discussion, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:08:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21611008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArsonEmbre/pseuds/ArsonEmbre
Summary: Demyx isn’t feeling good today, so he calls Axel
Relationships: Axel/Demyx (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: Son of a Preacher Man [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1398067
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	Heart-Shaped Box

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry lol

“ _ This _ is your house?”

Demyx tightens his grip on the doorknob and holds on for dear life. His heart is beating out of his chest and he feels really dizzy, but beneath that, there’s that familiar sense of excitement he always gets when he’s around him.

“This is my house,” he smiles awkwardly.

He steps aside to let Axel in, and the redhead looks around in awe. “Holy shit, this is nice dude!”

His smile fades as he quietly shuts the door and locks it back. There was a time where he would have felt proud when someone complimented the house and admired the lavish decorations and expensive furnishings. There was a time where he used to love it just as much as everyone else. It wasn’t until a year or two ago that he realized that none of these things would bring him any closer to salvation. It’s just  _ stuff _ . They don’t need any of it.

“It’s unnecessary,” he shrugs.

“What size TV is that?” Axel nearly shouts as he quickly walks over to look at the screen that’s mounted to the wall.

The corner of Demyx’s mouth dips down in irritation. “Probably like fifty inch?”

Axel heaves a breath as he slowly turns to Demyx. “Is there any chance you could get your parents to adopt me?”

“That would make you my brother, dummy.”

“I didn’t come here to be kink shamed.”

Demyx covers his mouth, trying his hardest not to laugh because that is not funny. It’s  _ not funny _ . “You’re fucking sick, get out.” He can’t help the small chuckle that slips out.

“You know I’m joking,” Axel grins as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Besides, you can’t kick me out before you tell me why you called me here. Very poor host skills, my friend.”

The blond rolls his eyes. “I‘ll tell you. Eventually.”

Axel stares at him for a few seconds, expression unreadable. “Hm.” And then he walks past him to pick up one of the ornaments on the table beside the couch. “Where’s your dad?”

“Schmoozing at a fundraiser. I was there earlier but I told him I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Aww, you snuck away just to see me? I’m so flattered.”

Demyx fights against a smile. “You’re  _ so  _ stupid.”

“If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard you say that I'd be able to buy this house.” He sits the ornament down and takes another look around. “Is that the kitchen over there?”

Demyx turns his head in the direction Axel nodded in. “No, that’s the dining room. The kitchen is in the back of the house.”

“So where’s your room?”

“Upstairs. That’s actually where we’re going.” Demyx starts walking. The click of Axel’s boots against the marble floor isn’t too far behind him. Marble transitions to wood and wood turns into carpet before they reach the stairs. “It looks a little different up here than it does downstairs and I think that’s because dad likes to show off when guests come over,” he tells him as they climb.

“Isn’t that a sin or something?” Axel asks.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if it was. And does he care at all? Nope. As long as his picture perfect family stays picture perfect from an outside perspective, who cares about  _ his _ sins, you know?”

When they reach the top of the stairs, Axel looks around at all the wood paneling and wrinkles his nose. “How do you not get sick of looking at this? There’s no color.”

Demyx puts his hands on his hips with a playful frown. “I didn’t call you here to criticize my lovely Christian home.”

Axel raises an eyebrow. “So what  _ did  _ you call me here for?”

He quickly turns his back to Axel. “So, in order from left to right, you have my dad’s office, a bathroom, my parents’ room, a closet, the attic door, my room, and the balcony door at the—”

“You have a  _ balcony?! _ ” Axel yells as he starts walking down the hall. Demyx grabs his wrist and pulls before he can go too far. He looks back at him with an expression that almost looks like a pout. “Let go, I wanna see the balcony!”

“It’s just a glorified porch! Control yourself!” Demyx laughs.

“Can I see it before I leave?”

“...Sure.”

“ _ Fuck _ yeah, I get to see a real life balcony up close!”

Demyx shakes his head and laughs to himself as he pulls Axel further down the hall. He attempts to go to the balcony anyway, but Demyx quickly pulls him inside of his room and shuts the door before he can complain.

“This is my room,” he says softly. “It’s not as heavily decorated as the rest of the house but...it’s the only thing that feels like it’s mine besides that coffee mug at your place.”

Axel’s eyes widen slightly as he tears them away from the rest of the room to look at him. His brow pinches together as he tilts his head. “You actually like that thing?”

“I think it’s funny that you looked at a mug that had a picture of boobs printed on it and decided it would be perfect to give to a gay man.”

“Oh shit, it does have boobs on it…” Axel grimaces. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I laugh every time I see it,” he says as he takes him by the hands and leads him to his bed.

“And you really feel like it’s yours?”

He nods gently. “It’s kinda like having a toothbrush there. Like...that’s  _ my  _ mug. You can’t have it back.”

Axel’s grin returns. “If it makes you do that really cute ear-to-ear smile then I don’t want it back.” 

His comment alone makes Demyx smile, and Axel laughs. “Stop, oh my god...”

“I’ll stop when you stop being so pretty.”

Demyx presses his lips together to hide his smile as he sits on the edge of his bed. He’s not used to Axel being this affectionate with him, but he can't say that he hates it. He’s probably just trying to butter him up so he can have sex with him.

“You know you don’t have to sweet talk your way into my pants. Just say you want sex.”

Axel takes a seat next to him. “Well yeah, but...no. I just think you’re cute, and it’s a shame that I don’t tell you that more often.”

The smile doesn’t leave his face when he narrows his eyes in suspicion. “What’s your deal? What do you want?”

Axel shrugs. “I’m just being nice. Do my compliments make you feel all fuzzy inside?”

If by fuzzy he means someone got ahold of the innocent little butterflies fluttering around in his stomach and gave them meth then yes, Demyx feels fuzzy and warm. He can feel each individual thump of his heart against his rib cage and it’s a little hard to breath because of it.

“Hardly,” he scoffs.

“Someone’s lying,” Axel sings. He actually has a pretty decent voice, Demyx thinks. It sends the methflies in his stomach into a frenzy.

“Nooo I’m  _ notttt _ ,” he sings back.

Axel smirks almost knowingly, but he can’t possibly know that. Even if he did somehow, he refuses to give him the satisfaction of saying it out loud. “Okay.”

“Don’t say okay like you don’t believe me. I tell no lies. I am a child of the lord.”

Axel wheezes, and Demyx is happy he could make him laugh so hard again. It always scares him to think that he bores Axel outside of the bedroom, but times like this remind him that he doesn’t. Axel thinks he’s funny. Axel enjoys his presence even when they’re just talking.

Demyx moves to the middle of his bed and lies on his back. “Come here,” he says, stretching his arms out.

Without even bothering to question him, Axel slips his boots off and lies down with him. Demyx waits until his arms are wrapped securely around him and sighs softly through his nose. “If I tell you why I asked you to come over, you can’t laugh.”

“Tell me.”

He looks up at the ceiling as he tries to find the right words. All of it sounds stupid, and he thinks about keeping it to himself for a little while longer.

Axel moves closer kisses his cheek. “I won’t laugh at you. Please tell me.”

Demyx frowns to himself as he tightens his hold on him. “The fundraiser was... _ really _ fucking bad. There were a lot of people there congratulating me for moving back home, asking me if I was single, trying to talk up for their daughters so I can date them, asking me about future plans, lowkey trying to pressure me into taking over for dad when he retires and i-it was…” He stops at the sound of his own voice cracking and clears his throat. “It was too much. Every day is starting to feel like too much and I really wanted someone to hold me.”

Axel pulls away to look at him and frowns as he lies his head on the pillow next to Demyx’s. “You’re going to snap soon and it’s not going to be pretty,” he says as he reaches up to brush a strand of hair out of his face.

Demyx already knows this. He can feel himself slowly breaking down a little more each day. “That’s why I come to you,” he smiles. “Everything feels like it’s falling apart, but you know how to make it okay again. Even if it’s just for a few hours.”

Axel opens his mouth, but a laugh comes out instead of words. Demyx doesn’t feel like he’s laughing at him. It’s too soft and too fond. “Is this the part of the movie where we pack all our shit and run away together?”

“In a 1980 Lincoln with a white top? Hell yeah,” Demyx grins.

“Ooh, tell me it has a cassette player.”

“It definitely has a cassette player and it’s playing that Cage The Elephant song you love while we do sixty in a forty-five and make plans to rob a bank.”

“That sounds like a dream,” Axel whispers with a soft smile. Demyx can’t help but stare at his mouth. He really wants to kiss him. He’s just inches away and yet he can’t bring himself to do it. Something isn’t right. He can feel his heartbeat in his nostrils and he’s pretty sure that isn’t normal. None of this is normal.

Demyx moves his attention away from his mouth to his eyes. That only makes things worse. Axel isn’t smiling anymore and he can’t read his expression or his mind. He doesn’t want to kiss him and be pushed away. Not right now and  _ not by him _ .

“You okay?”

He’s not sure.

“I will be if you kiss me,” he tries to smile.

Axel laughs, “You’re so cute…” and closes the distance between their lips. Demyx sighs happily as Axel’s hand comes up to cradle the side of his face. He feels stupid for ever thinking that he’d be pushed away. Axel brings him out of his head so easily. He makes him feel like he’s actually worth something. Like he’s special. All this man has to do is kiss him and suddenly he feels like he’s floating.

His kisses slowly make their way to the side of Demyx’s neck, and Demyx lets it happen. Somewhere between the feeling of teeth gently nipping at his skin and a hand carefully making its way down his body to the back of his thigh, he realizes that he always wants to feel like this.

He giggles when Axel pushes him onto his back. Axel winds up laughing as he pulls away and shifts his weight onto his forearms. “What’s so funny?”

Demyx shakes his head. He’s being honest. “Nothing is. I’m just...really happy right now.”

He watches as Axel’s smile grows. “Happy looks good on you.”

His heart skips several beats when he hears those words. He trues to speak, but his heart jumps into his throat when he hears the sound of tires on gravel. His head snaps toward the door as he listens intently. Is that a fucking car in his driveway?

“Hey, what’s wro—”

In a panic, Demyx clamps his hand over Axel’s mouth to get him to stop talking. Not because he’s afraid someone will hear him; he needs to be able to listen  _ very  _ carefully for the next few seconds. He hopes that noise is just his paranoid imagination and not what he thinks it is.

A car door slams shut. Demyx’s stomach turns as he looks back to Axel. “My dad’s home…”

“Whm?!”

He pushes against Axel’s chest and stumbles out of bed. The clock on his bedside table reads 4:30, but the fundraiser doesn’t end until later tonight. Why is he home? What is he doing? Why, out of all of the shitty teen movie tropes, did he have to suffer through this one? God, help him.

Never mind. That bastard’s done enough.

Demyx shakes his hands as he paces the floor and panics. “Where did you park?”

“Down the street. Didn’t want your neighbors seeing my van in your yard and calling the police,” Axel answers. He’s already putting his shoes on and Demyx can’t be any more grateful for him being so quick to get up and move when necessary.

He heaves a sigh of relief, but it fades as quickly as it came when he hears the front door open downstairs. There’s no way he’s going to get Axel out of here without his father seeing him, and he does  _ not  _ want the two of them to meet under any circumstances.

“Um…” Demyx looks at the door again and whimpers. He’s running out of options the longer he stands there. Finally, he turns to Axel. “I know this is  _ really _ stupid and we’re fucking adults but I need you to hide in the bathroom for like twenty minutes.”

“It’s not stupid at all,” Axel tells him. “Show me the way.”

They move as quickly and quietly as they can to get Axel down the hall and into the bathroom. As soon as the door clicks shut, he hears his father’s shoes on the staircase. Demyx inhales deeply, straightens his clothes, and takes a couple steps further to head him off. “Dad?” he feigns confusion. “Why are you home so early?”

The older man looks tense as he ascends the stairs, but not angry. That’s sort of a good sign. It means he probably won’t yell at him. “I came to see if you were all right. Your mother was worried, as well as Roxas.”

Now he feels a little guilty for having left. He didn’t mean to make Roxas worry. They’ve been getting closer ever since the picnic, but he didn’t think he would care all that much if he were sick or not.

Demyx smiles. “Tell them I’ll be okay. I just need some rest.”

“Is it exhaustion?” the older man asks. For a moment, it almost sounds like he cares. “Is it a stomach bug or dizziness?”

“It was...nausea at first but now I’m just really tired,” he shrugs, stuffing his hands deep in his pocket.

Ansem walks closer and touches the back of his hand to Demyx’s forehead. “You do feel warm. You should lie down. If you start to…” His voice trails off as his eyes wander south. The corner of his mouth dips down. “What is that?”

Demyx’s heart starts to race. He can’t see what his dad sees and he’s scared shitless. “What is what?”

Slowly, his father lowers his hand from his forehead to his collar and pulls it aside. It’s the same side of his neck that Axel had latched onto not too long ago.

_ Oh fuck. _

His mouth hangs open as he avoids his father’s cold stare. “I can explain—”

Ansem snatches his hand away as if the fires of hell itself had burned him. “I don’t need you to explain. I’m not stupid, Demyx.”

“Please listen to me—”

“Your mother is at that fundraiser right now worried about  _ your  _ health and you’re here doing God knows what with some girl?! I…” He scoffs and rakes a hand through his hair.

“We didn’t  _ do  _ anything, Dad. It didn’t go any farther than kissing. I haven’t slept with any girl so you don’t have to worry,” he tries to explain.

Ansem reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You are missing the point, Demyx. This isn’t about your virginity, this is about you betraying my trust, as well as your mother’s. You lied to us both so you could sneak around with whoever and that is  _ not  _ who I raised. First you run off to school out of state, then you go to this...this  _ gay parade _ , and now you lie to me? And this is probably not the first time.”

_ Only took you several years to figure that out, _ Demyx thinks bitterly.

“Please help me understand what’s going on with you. I’m watching you slip further and further away from God every day and nothing I do is helping. You’re old enough to understand that life is too short for you to not have your act together  _ now _ . When He calls you up, that’s it _. _ You don’t get a second chance. I can’t keep giving you this same speech every other month. Demyx. It has to sink in. You  _ have  _ to do better.”

It makes too much sense that the one time he actually feels safe and comfortable in his own home, the moment gets snatched away from him by this goddamn Bible-thumper. When will enough be enough? Why does he have to keep hearing the same shit over and over again?

Demyx sucks in a breath, still refusing to look at his father. “Has it  _ ever  _ occurred to you that the pretty, perfect life you’ve built for me isn’t the one I want to live?” he mumbles.

“Open your  _ mouth, _ boy, I can’t hear you.”

Tears of frustration sting his eyes as he picks his head up to look at his father. “I. Am not.  _ Happy, _ ” he growls between clenched teeth. He’s right at his limit and he’s not sure how much more of this bullshit he can take. “Everything that makes me happy, you find a way to take it away from me because  _ God said no _ . When does he ever say yes?”

“God says yes all the time when it’s things that you need. If you’d read your Bible—”

“No. I want you to tell me, _Pastor Wise_. If God is so good then where the hell is he when I need him?”

Ansem takes one more step closer, and he towers over a trembling Demyx easily. “You had better watch your mouth. I am a very patient man, but I will not tolerate blasphemy under my roof. Choose your next words carefully or you’ll be finding somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

Demyx inhales deeply, fighting the urge to snark at him. The threat of being kicked out is just enough to calm him down for now, but it may not be the next time. “Why is it that whenever I have a question about God, you accuse me of blaspheming? I genuinely want to know.”

“You shouldn’t have any questions about God when you were already told the answers from a very early age. Do not play games with the Lord.”

“It’s not games! I’m literally—! I cannot  _ stand  _ you!” Demyx laughs. He’s losing it. He feels like he’s talking to a brick wall. His sanity feels like a wet bar of soap and he’s trying  **so fucking hard** to get a grip. “You don’t listen to  _ anything _ I say! All you do is make excuses for the dumb stuff you do and I don’t understand it! You are the most annoying person I’ve ever met and I hate every single moment that I ever have to spend with you!”

Ansem stares at him, frown locked in place. He doesn’t look the least bit phases by Demyx’s words and Demyx can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not. He’s just glad he finally got that off his chest.

“Believe me,” Ansem says softly. “The feeling has been mutual for  _ years. _ ”

And just like that, all of the anger that had built up inside of him vanished. All he felt was hurt. The unconditional love that people are supposed to get from their parents...isn’t so unconditional after all. He already knows that he can never be what his father wants him to be and that’s the only way he’ll ever love him. Why is it so fucking hard for people to love him? What is he doing wrong?

“You don’t have to like me, Demyx. I did not spend twenty plus years raising you in hopes that you’ll  _ like _ me. But as long as you’re in my house, you will respect me and the God I serve. You don’t like living here? Pay your own tuition, pay your own car notes, and get out of my house. Can’t do that on your own? Get your act together and put your nose in that Bible. And I am not asking.”

The two men stare at each other for five long seconds before Ansem turns his back on him for the second time in ten minutes. Demyx watches as he quickly descends the stairs and noisily makes his way through the house. There's a quick jingle of keys, the rattle of a knob, and the sound of a door slamming. Demyx shuts his eyes, accidentally pushing his tears over the lids.

Another door opens slowly. Demyx remembers Axel and realizes he heard the entire thing. He’s beyond embarrassed, hurt, and doesn’t want to be touched, but he desperately wants someone to hold him and tell him everything will be okay.

He flinches when he feels hands on his upper arms. Their grip is firm, but he knows they don’t mean him any harm.

“It’s just me,” Axel whispers. Demyx feels soft lips on his forehead. “I’m here. And I am  _ so _ sorry.”

The crack in Axel’s voice is the thing that finally pushes him over the edge. He dips his head forward and releases the angry sobs he’s been keeping in for weeks. Axel wraps his arms around him and kisses the top of his head. In his hysteria, the one thing that he never wanted anyone to know slips out.

“I-I just want someone to  _ love _ me!” he cries. “And I can’t even get that from my own fucking dad!”

Axel holds him tighter, but it doesn’t do a bit of good. He can’t make it better this time. Too much of him is broken and neither of them have the tools to fix it.


End file.
